Jealously
by Quiesce
Summary: After a heated argument with Sherlock, John leaves the flat to stay at Sarah's. Sherlock comes to realize he doesn't like that. Johnlock. Oneshot.


**Jealously**

by: Quiesce

Sherlock

**Rating:** M

**Summary: **After a heated argument with Sherlock, John leaves the flat to stay at Sarah's. Sherlock comes to realize he doesn't like that.

**Side note:** This is my first time writing a smut fic, so feedback is very helpful! I hope it came out good. Also I do not own Sherlock.

* * *

"And where are you going?"

"Out. I need some air."

Sherlock stared after John, watching as he shrugged on his jacket and bounded down the stairs. He can tell by the twitch of John's index finger and the shoes that he wore where he was going. Sarah's. For a reason unknown to Sherlock he felt his fists clench and anger boil in the pit of his stomach. _Peculiar_, he thought, _what does it mean_? He swiftly rose from his seat on the couch and began to pace back and forth, trying piece together this particular puzzle. He could tell what was obvious: he disliked when John would sleep at Sarah's flat. What he could not understand was why. Why would he be bothered by such a thing? John was in a relationship with the woman, so it was logical that he would go to her for comfort or sexual activities. The thought of John with her in bed caused Sherlock's anger to rise anew. Sherlock noted that he had experienced this feeling before. When John had first announced he was dating Sarah he felt a similar pang, however it was not significant enough to notice. As their relationship progressed however Sherlock noticed the feelings increase in strength. And now it bothered him to no end that John would be sharing a bed with her tonight.

"Ridiculous." he gritted out, his anger rising out of control. Before Sherlock could go to his room to grab his gun, he receives a text. He grabs his phone.

**It seems the doctor has again chose to stay in Miss Sawyer's residence. -MH**

Sherlock hissed. Trust his nosy, utterly irritating brother to bring his regrettably large nose into his business. His long slender fingers quickly type a reply,

**Bugger off Mycroft. I don't see how that is of any interest of yours. -SH **

**It does not interest me at all little brother. I simply assumed it would interest **_**you**_**. -MH**

**It doesn't. -SH**

**Are you so sure? -MH**

Sherlock is about to toss his phone away in rage when another text comes from Mycroft:

**Interesting. He seems to be returning to your flat. -MH**

For a moment, Sherlock's anger is abated as relief fills his lungs, causing him to grin. He hears the door open, and swings around to face John. It's obvious that John is still furious. His mouth is pressed into a tight straight line and his brow knitted together in vexation. Sherlock's smile falls.

"Sherlock."

"John."

There is a short pause. John walks in, closing the door behind him. He fixes Sherlock with a fierce stare. "Apologize." Sherlock snorts, cocking his brow,

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Apologize."

"What for?"

John's jaw clenches, "You know exactly why Sherlock."

"I didn't realize that jar of jam had your name on it."

John lets out a sound of exasperation, his finger pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sherlock I'm the one who bought the jam. Of course it's mine. I wouldn't even mind if you have some. But wasting it for your experiments is out of the question." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "What other use for it is there?" John seems on the verge of exploding, "Please tell me you are joking. Jam is used for eating, Sherlock, eating. It is not a container for eyes, fingers, noses,and whatever the bloody hell else you stuffed in there."

Sherlock sniffed, "It was ears John." John lets out a howl, and trying to compose himself breathes in and out deeply through his nose. Sherlock can hear John whisper lowly, "I should have just gone to Sarah's." The indignation that Sherlock felt earlier returned swiftly. He growls, "You are not going to that woman's house." John freezes suddenly, seemingly taken aback by Sherlocks swift change in tone. "What?"

"Are you deaf John? I said you are not going to her house."

"Why do you care all of a sudden?"

When John asks him this, Sherlock momentarily pauses. He doesn't understand why he cares. It seems rather pointless, in his logical mind. He shakes his head, "I don't."

"Yes, yes you do otherwise you wouldn't have reacted that way."

When Sherlock stays silent, John sighs. "You know what? Sod this. I'm leaving." Sherlock feels his vision turn red with anger, and before John can even reach the doorknob, Sherlock seizes his wrist tightly. John turns his face to him, his brow raised, "What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm going to Sarah's Sherlock. Whether you like it or not." Sherlock looks into John's inflamed eyes and growls,

"You should have listened to me John."

And then Sherlock's lips were pressed against his.

He doesn't know how it happened. How his body seemed to move with a will of its own and devour John's soft lips with fervour. All he knows is that after John stills, which seemed to last a lifetime, he suddenly returns Sherlock's fevered passion with his own. John bent his head, his lips nipping at Sherlock's neck roughly, evoking a guttural groan from the dark-haired man. As John kissed his way back up to his lips Sherlock grasped John's arse firmly. A husky moan escaped John's lips and moved his body against him, until the delicate friction made Sherlock cry out, his hands sweeping along John's body. He felt John's fingers deft on the buttons of his snug shirt, his own fingers reaching for the hem of John's jumper, quickly pulling the garment off and tossing it aside. Sherlock made a soft sound of satisfaction deep in his throat as he achieved his ambition, his lithe fingers sliding across John's chest, and pinched his nipples forcefully. John cried out, rutting feverishly against him, making Sherlock's desire rising with an intensity that left no room for pride or doubt.

"John…" Sherlock moaned, his lips returning to the nape of the blonde man's neck. John replied with a groan, his fingers grasping Sherlock's hair tightly. His hand slides down to John's hips, his fingers working to unbutton his jeans. However John stopped his hands, "Bed." Sherlock nodded, practically running towards John's bedroom, kissing him along the way. When they reach the bedroom, John pushes Sherlock onto the bed, unbuttoning his jeans. Sherlock does the same, all the while biting John's bottom lip and sucking provocatively. When John's pants were discarded, Sherlock looked down at his throbbing cock, and he was suddenly swept away by a wave of emotion so intense it left him hot and shaking. He ached for John with every pore of his body; wanted him so badly that it frightened him. Sherlock met John's eyes and shivered under his darkened shimmering eyes. He wanted him just as much as Sherlock did. John bent his head down to Sherlock's lips, stroking them with his tongue.

"Pants. Off. Now." Sherlock didn't respond, only worked harder to remove the barrier of clothing that separated them. When he did, John firmly grasped Sherlock's cock, his thumb caressing the wet head. Sherlock was lost, his head tossing frantically from side to side, and John groaned in his ear, "Do you want me to fuck you Sherlock?" When Sherlock didn't reply, John moved down his body, his hands separating his legs. John's head then lowered, biting and kissing along Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock growled, frustrated with John inattention to his cock. He felt John smile against his inner thigh, "You have to tell me Sherlock. Tell me what you want." The immediate leap of his pulses, the aching need in the pit of stomach, were startling discoveries for a man who was always cool and collected.

But there was nothing collected about him now, not with John's mouth so close to his prick. Sherlock hissed, grabbing John's hair, "Oh for fuck's sake John. Fuck me. Fuck me with your mouth." John chuckled, then swooped down to take Sherlock in his mouth, and with that went any remaining self-control he had. He cried out, thrusting his hips into John's mouth, the sensation driving him mad. Shakily he noted the fine tremor building up inside him. He didn't want to come. Not yet. He pulled at John's hair, making him lift his head. He almost gave up on his resolve, what with John's lust filled gaze and his mouth opened invitingly with his pre cum on the corners of his lips.

"No." he says, and when John gives him a questioning look, he leans forward to bite his ear, "I want to come inside you John." Sherlock feels John shiver deliciously, "Then what are you waiting for?" Sherlock groaned, then flipped John over. He began leaving a hot trail of kisses along John's chest, earning him approving moans. He murmurs against John's skin, "God John… You're stunning." He moves up to John's lips to captures them passionately. John's arms encircled him, pulling him closer. Pulling apart he breathlessly said, "Lube. Night stand." Sherlock nodded, his hand desperately reaching for the lubricant. When his hands finally have a hold of it, he hastily applies it to his fingers. He bites at John's neck, which he has decided is his favorite spot, as it elicits the most delicious moans from the blonde beneath him. "Spread your legs John." he pleads, and without further encouragement John spreads them far apart.

Sherlock's hand glided down, and all while looking into John's darkened eyes, inserts a lube slick finger inside him. John arches his back, stifling a moan. Sherlock sucked on Johns neck as he inserted another finger into John. "Fuck yes, god…" John groaned, "God Sherlock." He rolls his hips, gaining more pleasure from Sherlock's finger. Sherlock gritted his teeth, "Do you want my cock John?"

"Yes, oh fuck yes." John cried out, "Fuck me with your cock."

With that, Sherlock withdrew his fingers. He grabs John's hips and grinded his cock against his entrance. John hisses out, his back arching and Sherlock idly thought this was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. John Watson naked and slick with sweat, completely open and vulnerable underneath him. Growling possessively, Sherlock gives him a rough kiss, and enters him. He nearly becomes undone right then and there. John feels absolutely amazing, and the loud cries coming from his lips turns drives him mad. He waits for John to adjust, and once he sees that he has, thrusts into him in a rough, wild frenzy. John writhes beneath him, cursing loudly, "Fuck yes Sherlock, fuck me harder… Yes like that!" Sherlock pounds into him, watching John's face contort in absolute pleasure. As Sherlock feels quivers of sensation build up inside him, he slows, no longer rough. He bends down to kiss John softly, suddenly overcome with an emotion can barely describe as he gazes into John's face. He's not fucking John Watson.

He's making love to him.

John matches his long, sensuous strokes, both of them are enraptured by one another. "John…" Sherlock groans against his mouth, feeling himself on the brink of his release. John clung to him, and Sherlock felt the shivery tension building, creating a vast shimmering light of sensation that caused him to cry out. John joins him, his own release evoking from him a string of raucous curses. Sherlock rolls away from him, both men utterly spent and their breathing ragged. When Sherlock catches his breath, he props himself on his elbow and cocks his brow, "I thought you said you were straight." John chuckled breathlessly,

"And I thought you said you were married to your work."

Sherlock smiles crookedly, "Touche."

John sits up, sighing, "So. Care to tell me what all that was about." Sherlock is unsure what to say, "I don't know. Recently I noticed that I get… Somewhat angered by your relationship with Ms. Sawyer."

"Her name's Sarah."

"Whatever. The point is, I've become an impulsive being when it comes to you." He looks into John's blue eyes, "You're much better at this. Average minded emotions I mean. Oh don't look at me like that. Do you think you can help me?" John's lips twitch, "Is Sherlock Holmes asking for help?"

"Shut up. Will you help or not?"

John pauses, seeming deep in thought, a giant grin plastered on his face. "Do you think that maybe you're jealous?"

"Jealous? Why?"

"Maybe you don't like me being with someone else."

"Why? You make it sound as though…" Sherlock's eyes widened.

Oh.

_**Oh**_.

That would explain a lot.

He hears John chuckle, his lips caressing his own, "For a genius you can be very obtuse." Sherlock's eyes him warily, "And what about you?" John rolls his eyes at him. "I've always loved you, you git."

"What about Sarah?"

At this John paused, and then sighed saying, "I've planned to break it off with her. To be honest I only dated her because I thought you'd never want me. So I tried to move on with her."

"That didn't go very well."

John laughed, "No, it didn't."

They lay beside each other, both looking into the others eyes. Sherlock still could not wrap his mind around all the new revelations that occurred tonight. Yesterday, John was just John, his only friend. Now… Now he was so much more. "What happens now John?" he asked, his curious fingers exploring the planes of John's chest with interest. "For now, we sleep. I'm exhausted, and I'm sure you are too." he answered with a yawn. Sherlock grunted in affirmation, his eyes becoming heavy. But before he allowed sleep to come over him, he asked "John. Why did you come back to the flat earlier?"

"Oh Mycroft texted me something about you being in love with me."

"I'll kill him."


End file.
